Crossing Over With Dana Scully
by Zephyr
Summary: Scully gets a reading with John Edward. If you've seen Crossing Over, please read!


Disclaimer: The _X-Files_ and its characters are not mine, they belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. _Crossing Over With John Edward_ is not mine either. John Edward belongs to himself, the show belongs to the Sci-Fi channel. I'm just borrowing characters/people from these shows for my own writing enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of those who read it here, I'm not making money and no copyright infringement is intended.

Before you read: I have been racking my brains ever since that fateful night when Chris Carter may or may not have put an end to Mulder. But I simply can't find a reasonable way - to my mind - to explain how Mulder might not be dead. So, in my misery I gave up and wrote a cross-over (ha, ha - you'll get it in a sec.) of X-Files and Crossing Over (see?) With John Edward. The latter,is a show on the Sci-Fi channel featuring a medium by the name of John Edward who gives readings to the audience members. If you haven't seen it, I think it would really enhance your reading of the story if you did first. But in case you don't, I should explain that in the middle of the show he always does a one-on-one session with someone, which is what Scully is being given below. Originally, I feared writing this might actually bum me out further, but it actually cheered me up. Not that I, for a second, wouldn't prefer that Chris Carter, in his superior - though sometimes cruel - intellect spare Scully and the show the tremendous loss of Mulder. So read and try to enjoy, keeping in mind, if need be, that it is probably a fictional fiction and Mulder is still alive.   
  


"Hi, I'm John."

He extended a hand as he spoke, which she shook, and he took a seat in the chair across from her.

"Dana," she told him.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"No," she answered with a firmness that warned Mr. Edward she was skeptic.

"What happens is I will try and connect with the energies around you. Please just answer yes or no to whatever comes through. I may not be able to connect with who you're hoping to hear from, so please just listen to whatever comes through. Are you ready?"

"Uh, yeah," she answered, wondering what to expect.

The medium then closed his eyes and took a deep, short breath, rubbing his hands together absently. She eyed the scene critically. He then opened his eyes again, quietly looking away from her with an expression of one on the phone, listening to the receiver.

It's a croc, Scully told herself. Ooops, better watch that negative energy, she thought wryly, reminding herself of the Stupendous Yappi.

"Okay, first I'm getting a male figure above you, this to me would be: father, grandfather, uncle - is your father passed?"

His eyes went back to her for the answer.

"Yes."

He looked away again. His mouth was open slightly, standing by for the next message.

"He's showing me the book Moby Dick, so to me that means either you two read Moby Dick together, there's a Moby Dick reference, there's a whale reference, I don't know, maybe somebody has a peg-leg - does this make sense?"

"Yes," she answered, struggling to mask her surprise at such a clear connection to her relationship to her father. That couldn't have been a guess. Could it? How popular was Moby Dick when she was growing up?

"Did you two like call each other by characters' names from Moby Dick?"

"Oh my -" she began in awe before he had even finished the question, "Yes, Ahab and Starbuck..."

He nodded and turned his gaze away again to concentrate. Scully silently chastised herself for blurting out the names. Just yes or no, she reminded herself, Don't let your desire to believe make it easy for him to scam you. This could easily be a trick. Maybe they wanted to make sure she didn't doubt his death. Maybe . . . shut up, she thought, there is no "they" anymore and he is gone. She kept forgetting that this time it was real. Third time's a charm, she thought bitterly. She would just get through this charade and go back to grieving. Scully silenced her wandering thoughts and resumed her calm, critical demeanor as the medium continued.

"He's telling me Quee-Queenie? Queegy? - do you know what this is?"

Scully shook her head, eyeing him carefully.

"He's saying that you do..."

Scully tried to place the odd word again, but nothing came. She waited, her skepticism growing with every second that he sat there in silent concentration. As striking as the hit with Moby Dick had been, if that was all he had, then he had nothing.

On the other hand, she realized, his insistence made him seem more credible, even though she didn't have a clue what he was talking about. If he tried to change the message or make it more general so she could attribute it to something, that would suggest he was a fake.

"He's saying Bill, but he's saying it twice, like there's Bill, but then there's another Bill who I would see as being below him, younger than him-"

"Yes, he's Bill, my father, and Bill Jr. is my older brother."

"His son?"

"Yes."

"Living?"

"Yes." 

"Okay, he's acknowledging your brother and using this as a validation for me with the Queegie thing, which" - John laughed shortly - "he's not letting go. I don't know what he's . . . did you have a dog?"

"Yes." Finally it dawned on her, "Quequag? Oh, of course! I'm sorry I didn't expect him to mention - I didn't get Quequag until after he passed. But of course, the name goes along with the whole Moby Dick thing . . ."

"Well, the dog's with him now," the medium told her, his New York accent coming through particularly clearly in his pronunciation of "dog's".

Scully looked at him with a combination of skeptically raised eyebrows, and wondrous, wide eyes. Geez, if he could connect with Quequag, surely he could - no, she told herself, don't even dare. Not yet.

"He's also telling me Charles, Charlie, Chuck -"

"My other brother's name is Charles."

"Living?"

"Yes."

He nodded as if that's what he understood from her father.

Whoa, she thought. He either had to be a big-time fraud and was getting information on people prior to their readings, or he was the real thing. 

"There's a female energy with him - below him, to your side. This would be sister cousin friend and their telling me 'M', Melinda, Marissa -"

"Missy," Scully breathed, "My sister Melissa."

"Crossed?"

"Yes."

"Is she your big sister?"

"Yes."

"She has a really clear energy," he commented before pausing for more information.

"Did they both die suddenly? Different times, different causes, but both unexpected?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice cracking slightly.

"Was one of them from a localized impact, like a gunshot?"

"Yes, my sister was shot."

"At your home?" he asked, slightly incredulous.

"Yes," she answered, tears already forming.

He hesitated.

"This might sound strange, but she's telling me her being shot was an accident, but not like the shooting itself was accidental. Not like: The person didn't know the gun was loaded, or had bad aim, but like she wasn't who they thought she was."

Scully gasped.

"I'm sorry to be blunt, but did she get shot instead of you?"

"Yes," she answered softly, but firmly.

"She wants you to know that this was in no way your fault. You've guilty about it, and she's saying you shouldn't, there really wasn't anything you could have done. Okay? And she's showing me pink roses, which to me is how they express their love to you."

A jerky sigh of relief escaped her as he looked away again. After a moment, he smiled and turned back to her.

"Are you like a complete skeptic?" he glanced back at the energies, "They're both making me feel like it's absolutely unbelievable that you came."

"I wouldn't say a complete skeptic. At least not anymore. I'm sure they would be surprised to see me here."

He nodded vigorously, a comic expression on his face.

"Oh yeah," he assured her, "They're definitely surprised. They're saying that like, five, six years ago, you wouldn't have been caught dead talking to a medium."

She smiled, glancing down at her lap and nodded. 

"Things change," she answered quietly.

Another pause. She felt the sudden urge to brace herself. Was he going to come through?

"Okay," he said, nodding his head, as if acknowledging to the energies that he understood, then turned his gaze back to Dana.

"They're making me feel like they could say more, but you didn't come here for them. So they're going to step aside now. But they wanted to jump in first to prepare you, and hopefully make you more receptive to the reading as a whole before letting the person you came here for come through. Make sense?"

She could only nod. They had to mean Mulder.

"Okay, I've got a male energy at your side, I'd see this as husband, brother, cousin, or friend. He's - he's coming through as like the husband. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," she could only whisper at first, "He wasn't - yes, I understand."

"Can I be personal with you?" he asked suddenly.

She hesitated, surprised by the question. 

"Not that I haven't been already but-"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," she told him.

"He's also saying he's the father," he told her, indicating her stomach, "Very proudly, like 'I'm a dad'." 

She could see the look on Mulder's face, in his eyes, that would have accompanied such a sentiment and was instantly tears again. Delighted and hurt at the same time, she gave in and just let them flow, hoping they would eventually dry up on their own. 

"He is," she confirmed softly. 

John stopped to listen again. 

"It sounds like he's saying 'skull'?" 

The medium looked to her quizzically.

"Scully," she answered, trying not to blubbler, "That's my last name."

"He had to have called you by your last name then," John persisted uncertainly.

"Yes."

"He's saying you worked together, you were partners?"

"Yes."

"He's telling me trust was very important. And I feel like you guys really had that. After a certain point, there was complete, unquestioned trust between you. Understand?"

"Absolutely."

"He's also telling me seven. I don't think it's a date, I think it's a period of time. Do you know what this is?"

"Um, yeah. We worked together for seven years."

"He shows me a badge connected with this, were you guys law enforcement?"

"FBI."

"Really? Cool," he commented briefly before focusing back on Mulder's energy, "He's making me feel like there was a lot of guilt for you regarding his passing. Like: you got to him too late, like you could've saved him if you had done this or that" - Scully was nodding, her lower lip trembling at the memory - "and he's saying 'No way! Don't even go there.' Got it?"

She nodded again, crying softly.

"This may sound strange, but it sounds like he's saying you had a vision of - of your father before you found your husband's - partner's, whatever, to me he's husband - his body?"

John looked at her uncertainly.

"No. I did have a vision of him, before I found his body."

John paused. Then Scully remembered.

"But I also had a vision of my father before my mother called me to tell me that my father had died," she offered

"Oh, okay," the medium said closing his eyes briefly and nodding as if to say 'duh'.

"Your dad jumped in there, and I got the messages mixed up. They were acknowledging both visions at once and I got confused."

"He, your partner, wants me to give you a hard time about not telling him about the vision of your father at the time. He's giving me this feeling, in a teasing way, of exasperation with you for being so skeptical of things you couldn't explain."

She gave a small smile and waited for him to continue.

"Okay, he's telling me like three things at once now," John held up a finger to let her know to wait before responding, "The first is like Muller, or Miller . . . Milder? But then he's also saying, 'not fox' or 'not a fox' and he's saying 'sloopy', 'slooky', 'spooky'?"

Scully grinned.

"His first name was Fox, but he hated it and insisted that everyone call him Mulder, his last name. And they used to call him Spooky Mulder at the Academy."

"Ahh," John said shortly and held out an open palm, as if to say 'well there you go'.

"Oh boy, he's got a lot to say. He's not pulling back," the medium sighed, thinking about the show's time limit. They'd have to cut this session down a lot if it was going to air. But there was so much good stuff in it! John thought regretfully. The connection between these two wasincredible and made for an excellent session.

"He wants me to tell you to thank . . .Maggie?"

"Yes, that's my mother."

"Did she pay for your session on the show or something?"

Scully nodded.

"And the plane ticket to fly here from D.C. and she even offered to pay my hotel bill, but I turned her down."

John laughed then, not from what she had said, apparently, but from something Mulder had.

"Did she like guilt you into this by saying it was her dying wish?"

"She came pretty damn close," Scully said with a wry smile, "She's a long way off from dying yet, but she said, in effect, if I did this it would be the last favor she'd ever ask of me."

"Well, he's saying thank you to her for that," John told her, relaying Mulder's sincerity in his voice, "He's making me feel like you two really needed this opportunity for closure; that you two didn't have the chance to say goodbye before he passed. So big thanks to Mom."

Scully nodded.

"He also wants to thank people who he says helped you look for him - he was missing before he crossed over?"

"Mm-hmm."

"He's telling me something about skin, or skinny, may be a name -"

"Skinner, our boss. He helped me look for Mulder."

"And he's also telling me my name, John."

"John is another agent assigned to finding Mulder, and my temporary partner."

"And he's making reference to another female agent?"

"Yes, there was another agent, a friend of Do - of John's. But Mulder never knew her."

"But he wants to acknowledge her as well," John told her, "And in addition to searching for him, he also wants to thank them for being there for you."

Scully took a deep involuntary breath.

"He also wants to thank . . ." John stopped, having trouble believing his extra senses, "The gunmen?"

"Yes, friends of his. They searched for Mulder with their own rather unorthodox methods."

"Oh, thank God," he breathed. Grinning with relief he explained: "I thought he was thanking the men who shot him or something."

Scully smiled back slightly, understanding the confusion.

"No," she assured him, "It's a sort of nickname for three of his friends. "

"Whew," John said, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair, apparently relieved to have his sanity substantiated.

Extending a palm out in her direction, he reiterated: "Okay, well he's saying thanks to them too."

"Geez," Scully muttered, "What does he think death is? The Academy Awards?"

John Edward, renowned medium, burst out laughing and Scully couldn't help but join him.

"Ohhhhh," John sighed when he finally had control of himself, "So much for being professional."

He shook his head. Took a deep breath and did his best to focus back on Mulder, but a chuckle still escaped him now and then. Scully smiled and waited.

"Have both his parents crossed over?"

"Yes."

"Cause he acknowledging that they're with him . . . Was there a division in the family when he was younger? Like an event drove the members apart?"

"Yes, his sister disappeared when he was twelve," Scully told him, no longer concerned about giving up information to him. He had proven himself as far as she was concerned.

"His parents refused to talk about it and they eventually divorced," she added while he listened to Mulder.

"He's acknowledging Sam, Samuel, or Samantha?"

"That's her, that's his sister, is she -"

"He's saying," he had already begun once she confirmed that it was his sister, "She's not there."

Scully gasped for what felt like the hundredth time since they had begun.

"She hasn't crossed over," he repeated, "She's still missing?"

"Yes."

"He's asking that if you find her, to let her know that her family has crossed, but that they're okay, and they can see her."

"Where -" Scully began, but John hadn't finished.

"He's starting to pull back, but he wants me to tell you to ask me to . . . I think he wants me to tell you to have me summon up the soul of Jimmi Hendrix?"

Her question was momentarily forgotten as she puzzled over the bizarre request. It sounded familiar - beyond the fact that it was his usual idiotic sense of humor.

"I can't do that by the way, unless he's a relation or personal friend," he decided to mention, partly joking, partly making sure she understood his limits, "He's laughing, which suggests to me it's some kind of inside joke."

Then it came back to her. Boggs. She grinned and shook her head. Oh, Mulder, she thought, You haven't lost your edge either.

"Yeah, I remember," she told him, "He was kidding."

"He's pulled back now, but he first showed me pink roses for you and pink roses for your child. Please just know and let the child know that he's still with you and he's okay. And please let those he and your father and sister mentioned know that they came through. Alright?"

Scully cleared her throat, which was thick with emotion, and extended her hand to the medium. He leaned forward to shake it.

"Yes," she said, "Thank you."

"Thank you."  
  
  
  


Regrets: It would've been better though to have a wider variety of episodes. Seemed like so much of it was from Beyond the Sea. But if I had put in all the references I wanted to, it never would have finished. I guess my mind was on Boggs because that episode had so much in common with Crossing Over.

I dunno, maybe I made the reading go too smoothly. There's often something he says that somebody doesn't understand even by the end of the reading. Or maybe I made the messages come through extraordinarily clearly, but I can't imagine, considering the strength of their bond, things going any less smoothly.

Lastly, most importantly, and most obviously, I regret that Mulder had to be dead in order to write this.  
  


Thanks for reading. I'm definitely open to reviews.


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